


dear ryan and i

by badlywrittenbfu (orphan_account), offwhxte (orphan_account)



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, King Shane, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Oblivious Ryan Bergara, Royalty AU, Serf Ryan, Shane Madej In Love, Shane is terrifying, Shane needs a hug, brief angst, but also a cutie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 23:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16690582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/badlywrittenbfu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/offwhxte
Summary: “Nice to meet you, Ryan.” Ryan expected a handshake or at least, a wave, but the man was standing over him in a moment, warm lips pressed against each cheek, before he stepped back. “I’m Shane.”“Nice to meet you, Shane,” Ryan said, his face burning. He spared a glance down to the body on the ground. His breath caught in his throat. Oh, this is the king, he realized, looking back to the tall man. He doesn’t look like a king.or, shane is the king and ryan is his babysitter who could get executed at any moment.





	dear ryan and i

**Author's Note:**

> oof, here's a new story but i'm kind of insecure about it so i'm posting it under this badlywrittenbfu pseud as well, just in case i completely must get rid of it later on. 
> 
> oh, also, this isn't edited. be careful.

“Yeah, he’s…” the woman shook her head, her fingertips rubbing across her forehead as she looked over a very important-looking document, not meeting his eyes, “… he’s fucking _crazy_.”

“Oh,” Ryan said, his bag heavy on his shoulders through the thin fabric. He flexed his fingers on the strap, “Alright.”

“It’s a good thing you’re here,” she said quietly, closing the book in front of her. Dust shot from the pages. “He needs someone to… help him.”

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed as if he knew. He wasn’t entirely sure about this ‘easy job’ anymore. Since he’d entered the palace, he’d run into several servants grasping at his shoulders and trying to turn him around, telling him _not to go any further_ and that _Madej’s a mad man, leave while you can_. But Ryan needed the money. And he was getting paid a LOT of money to do this.

Be a king’s babysitter. Yeah, it seemed pretty simple.

Ryan was taken by the arm by a slightly smaller man, another took his bag from off his shoulders and disappeared into a room. “Uh?” He asked.

“Don’t ask any questions,” the man arm-in-arm with him said quietly, shaking his head. He looked tired. “Please.”

“Alright,” Ryan said, his eyebrows low on his nose as he was guided through a dark corridor, growing closer and closer to a distant noise of conflict.

“He has a temper,” the man eventually disclosed, halfway down the seemingly growing hallway, the noise growing ever louder, “You must have heard the warnings, but no one will call you a coward if you leave now.”

“Okay… but I’m good,” Ryan said.

The man paused, tugging Ryan back.

“Let me tell you something,” he said, looking even more exhausted than before. “Maybe that will bring you to your senses.”

Ryan opened his mouth to respond. Something like, _what’s so bad about the king?_

But then the doors at the end of the hallway opened, loud and unforgiving, the doors swinging into the walls they were hinged to, surely denting the paint and splintering the panes themselves. A tall man, disheveled and red in the face, emerged from the furthest room, his fingers hooked into a man’s mouth, dragging him across the floor. Ryan raised an eyebrow, moving to glance at his guide, but he was on the floor, kneeling with his hands over his head.

“Hey,” Ryan began.

“ _Shhh_ ,” came the muffled response.

“You.”

Ryan paused and looked up. The tall man was fixated on him, his fingers still stuck in the completely unconscious man’s mouth, his hair damp on his forehead from effort, his chest heaving. His eyes seemed confused, searching, and… something else. Had it not been for the trace amounts of blood on his chin and free hand, Ryan may have mistaken him for someone sane.

“…Me?” Ryan replied.

“Who are you?” The man asked, tilting his head. He released the body’s head, wiping his hand on his pants as the nauseating sound of a skull clattering against the floor echoed through the air.

“My name… is Ryan?” He began to wonder if he was supposed to bow or kneel or whatever the rest of the building seemed to be doing, but the man in front of him smiled and nodded.

“Nice to meet you, Ryan.” Ryan expected a handshake or at least, a wave, but the man was standing over him in a moment, warm lips pressed against each cheek, before he stepped back. “I’m Shane.”

“Nice to meet you, Shane,” Ryan said, his face burning. He spared a glance down to the body on the ground. His breath caught in his throat. _Oh, this is the king,_ he realized, looking back to the tall man. _He doesn’t look like a king._

“I like you,” Shane said, his eyes tracing an invisible line between Ryan’s eyes to his toes.

“Oh,” Ryan said. He pointed to the body instead of commenting, “What’s… his name?”

Shane blinked, running a hand through his hair, “Hm. I don’t know. He’s… _was_ my advisor. So, Advisor, I suppose.”

“Huh,” Ryan said, his throat dry. “Well, I’m… your _new_ advisor.”

“Oh!” Shane said. He shed his upper layer of clothing and draped over the face of the (now, Ryan figured, probably deceased) man as if to maintain some sort of decency and make a good impression. Shane’s shoulders were exposed through holes in a long-sleeve undershirt, and Ryan was beginning to feel panicked. “Of course.”

“Should I…” Ryan went to kneel.

“Don’t worry, Ryan.” Shane stepped closer, his hands on either side of Ryan’s face. Ryan’s breath was caught in the back of his throat. _This man is a murderer,_ Ryan thought, _he’s gonna kill me._ “I will protect you.”

“Okay, Shane,” Ryan said, managing a shaky smile. “I trust you.”

“Wonderful,” Shane said, his thumb gliding across Ryan’s cheek, maybe smearing blood across his face. He stepped back and regained his grip on the body through the cloth of his shirt. “Will I see you later today, dear Ryan?”

“Of course,” Ryan replied, as it was clearly the correct answer.

Shane nodded once, a chipper smile on his face, before resuming his dragging of the corpse down the hallway. It made a sickening sound and an even sicker dark red trail.

The man on the floor shot to his feet as soon as the footsteps faded and the tall man disappeared around the corner, staring wide-eyed at Ryan. He retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the red from Ryan’s face, “He likes you.”

“Yeah?” Ryan asked, his voice raspy with shock.

“No need to worry,” the man said, tucking the cloth away. “You’re his favorite, already.”

“That’s good.” Ryan wasn’t sure if that was good. But he thought it was something good he could say to keep himself from losing his mind.

-

After being taken on a tour of the rooms he was allowed into, Ryan entered his sleeping quarters where his bag was placed carefully on the bed and a few sconces were lit in the upper corners. It looked quite nice, much nicer than his bedroom at the house. There were pillows made with real feathers and full quilts with beautiful, consistent patterns. Ryan decided to pretend he didn’t know first-hand the agony sewn into each stitch as he ran his fingers across the soft fabric and took a deep breath.

Even the air smelled richer. Expensive and metallic.

Ryan spend an hour or two silently touching everything in the room, exploring, before the door swung open and thudded against a heavy dresser near the window. Ryan turned quickly, pulling his hand away from a picture frame and tucking it into the waistband of his pants.

“He wants to meet you,” a small woman said, giving somewhat of a bow.

“You don’t need to…” Ryan gestured with his hand at her stance, “My name’s Ryan.”

“Right.” She nodded but did it again by habit. “Come with me, if you would.”

“In this?” Ryan raised his arms a bit, looking down at himself. He seemed to be underdressed, “Shouldn’t I get… like, a uniform, or something? Fancy clothes?”

“No, no,” she chuckled, “He wants you as you are.”

Ryan didn’t really grasp that immediately, but as soon as the weight of the words hit him, he was already out the door, into a corridor, into a slightly fancier corridor that shot off from the original corridor and standing in front of a pompous golden door that smelled overwhelmingly aromatic, like flowers and something metallic. Ryan decided to think it was the giant slab of gold, and not blood. Which it definitely was.

“I can help you escape, if you wish,” she whispered, her hand on the cold handle. “Before he kills you.”

“No, that’s… fine,” Ryan said, completely against his wishes. “Thank you.”

“You’re… welcome,” she said, uncertain, pushing the door open.

The room was quaint, compared to its entrance. It looked not unlike where Ryan’s quarters were, if not a bit bigger and with a balcony overlooking the stone courtyard Ryan had walked through to enter the palace. Ryan exhaled, his shoulders drawing down his back at the sight. He had expected piles of gold, millions of servants, endless intimidation.

Instead, Shane was sat cross-legged on his bed, placed in the middle of his room, his head propped up on his hands as he looked goofily at the man in the doorway.

“Ryan!” He said, unmoving, not flinching as the heavy door slammed closed behind Ryan.

“Hello, Shane,” Ryan said, calmer, looking around for staff of some sort. There was none.

“How do you like your room?” Shane asked. The eye contact he was holding made Ryan uncomfortable, so he looked toward the window. “Is it to your comfort level?”

“Yes, it’s really nice,” Ryan said with a muted nod. “Thank you.”

“I have decided to take very good care of you,” Shane said, reaching over and patting the bed beside him. “So I shall.”

“Um… do you want me to – “

“Please, sit with me.”

“Oh. Okay.” Ryan shuffled over, staring at the silk sheet that covered Shane’s mattress. “That seems pretty… expensive, for me to sit on.”

“Do you like it?” Shane asked, gently taking Ryan’s wrist in his and pulling him down. Ryan bounced, his eyes wide and his shoulders stiff with surprise, “You can have it, if you do.”

“It’s nice, but I couldn’t.”

“You can do anything you want to do, Ryan.”

“Thanks?”

“You’re very welcome,” Shane smiled, soft and warm, and Ryan was incredibly confused.

“Um.” Ryan decided to get it over with, rip the bandaid off. If he were to die, if was probably sooner than later, because this guy was really sending mixed signals. “So, are you gonna… kill me?”

“What?” Shane’s smile dimmed and Ryan winced. “Why in the world would I kill _you,_ dear Ryan?”

“Well,” Ryan said slowly, unsure if the question was hypothetical. “You killed your last one?”

“That’s… fair, but you’re different.” Shane said. “I love you.”

“Right.” Ryan nodded a few times, looking down at his palms before looking back up to the king, “Wait, what?”

“I would never kill you,” Shane said instead. “Trust me, Ryan.”

“Okay,” Ryan said, against his internal thoughts. “Thank you, Shane.”

“What a silly thing to thank me for,” Shane laughed, falling back onto the bed. Ryan was unsure if he should do the same, but Shane grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled him back as well. Shane’s arm was trapped under Ryan’s shoulders, wrapped protectively around him. “I think you’ll be my best friend.”

“Okay,” Ryan said again. The day was going much differently than he’d planned. He wasn’t sure if that was good or not.

-

Shane paced in the kitchen, interrupting many peoples’ work as he weaved around the tables and chefs, running his hands through his hair.

“What do you mean, I can’t love him? Why not?” Shane stamped his foot, pulling himself up onto the marble island, reaching up to fuss with a hanging fixture.

“Not everyone is so… open, about themselves, as you are, Your Highness. And besides, he is in the serfdom – “

“That’s not important,” Shane said indignantly, looking down at his servant. “Never speak of dear Ryan like that again.”

“Of course. But, my point is, if you offend him and he walks, he may spread the word through the masses,” the man said, nodding slowly, trying to get Shane to do the same, “If word gets out about your… affections, you may lose the respect of your people.”

“Oh, what does that _matter_?” Shane rolled his eyes, “I have to sacrifice my happiness for respect? Respect is ancient. I’d love to be happy.”

“Respect is more important.” The man said, “You are a leader. Your happiness is not a priority.”

“I suppose,” Shane sighed, fussing with the fixture more before letting his hand fall, “Oh, well. I couldn’t kill him if I wanted to, so if I offend him, he would have to walk free. He wouldn’t want to… stick around.”

“Correct.”

“Can I get him… gifts?” Shane asked, looking up through his eyelashes.

“Of course.”

“Of course,” Shane repeated, tapping his chin. “Of course, I can.”

“What are you planning?” The man asked hesitantly.

“Absolutely nothing.” Shane said, hopping off the island and rushing toward the exit. “Where’s my coat?”

“Your Highness – “

“Coat!” Shane cried, clapping his hands with a huge grin on his face.

“Should I ask Ryan to join you?” the old man asked, shaking his head fondly as he tugged Shane’s more low-profile coat from its hanger.

“No, Crow, this is a secret quest,” Shane said, holding his arms out. Crow pulled his jacket over his arms and Shane adjusted it on his shoulders, “I’d love your company.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

-

“Can I help at all?” Ryan asked, peering over the pot of spinning clothing, tucking the front of his shirt into his pants.

“No, no,” Chris (his guide, he had learned earlier) said, pushing his foot down on the pedal with increasing speed. Water sloshed over the side, nearly splashing against Ryan’s toes. “If the king finds out I put you to work, he’ll have me hanged.”

“But I’m not… you’re not putting me to work,” Ryan had his hands on his hips, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “I’m putting myself to work. Will he hang me for that?”

“Definitely not,” Chris said solemnly, backing away and handing a long stick to Ryan, “But if he drags me to the dungeon, will you make a case for my life?”

“Of course I will,” Ryan said, grimacing at the statement, “You’ve been with him awhile, though. I’m sure he has a special place for you in his heart.”

“His heart is all yours, dear Ryan,” Chris said, patting Ryan’s back. He sank into a chair in the corner, “It is nice to rest, once in awhile.”

“I can only imagine,” Ryan said, stirring the clothes.

“Press your food on the pedal,” Chris closed his eyes, “You hold the poker to look like you’re doing more than you actually are.”

“Good to know,” Ryan said.

-

“Ryan!” Shane said, rolling off his bed and running towards his advisor. He grinned and placed his hands on Ryan’s shoulders, “How are you today?”

“I’m okay,” Ryan said, jumping as Shane kissed his cheek. “How are you?”

“I’m swell,” Shane was beaming. He took Ryan’s hand and dragged him into the room, “I have many big decisions to make today and I need my lucky Ryan to assist me.”

“Right,” Ryan said, staring at their conjoined hands as he stumbled over tossed clothing and broken dishes, “You should clean your room, Shane.”

“For what purpose?” Shane asked, placing Ryan in a chair next to his desk and pushing him close to his own (made of gold, of course), “I’m the king, no one comes in here but you and Crow. I don’t mind the mess.”

“It’ll make you feel better,” Ryan said, trying to move slightly away. Shane grasped the wooden arm of his chair and yanked him back. “Clean room, clean conscience.”

“I’ll consider it,” Shane said with a smile, “But only because I value your input more than anyone else’s, dear Ryan.”

“Thank you,” Ryan said.

“Your gratitude is very important to me,” Shane said, wrapping his arms around the stacks of paper and bringing them towards him. “Which is why you are my best friend.”

“That makes sense.”

“I know, right?” Shane shook his head with a chuckle, “You are my favorite.”

Ryan didn’t have anything to say to that. So he simply smiled and leaned closer to read the edicts to be chosen.

-

Ryan was awoken at midnight by Chris grabbing his collar and dragging him out of bed. Ryan may have screamed in the darkness for fear that it was Shane and that he’d said something wrong earlier in the day, but Chris calmed him with a gentle, “Get it together.”

“Oh,” Ryan said, scrambling to his feet and flattening his hair with his hands, “Hello, Chris.”

“The king needs you,” Chris said, pushing him toward the door, “This will be your test.”

“My test?”

“You’ve not seen him this angry.” Ryan was pushed into the hallway, the dim light of lit sconces still too bright for his eyes. “If you fear for your life, knock three times on the door and scream loudly. I’ll try to get to you in time.”

“Wow,” Ryan said, nodding. “Thanks, Chris.”

“You’re quite welcome, Ryan.”

They stood at the door for a moment, and Ryan could hear the distant, deep voice of Shane rambling, the noise of more plates breaking, things knocking against the door. Ryan blinked a few times, wondering if he could run away. However, he had a bit of faith in Shane’s muted obsession with him, and placed his hands on the door.

“Shane?” He called, pressing his ear to the gold. He heard the chaos halt.

“… Ryan?” Shane asked.

“Can I come in, Shane?” Ryan asked, wrapping his hands around the cold handles.

“Of course you can, Ryan,” Shane said.

Ryan went to push the door, but he found the door weightless under his palms. Shane was stood in the doorway, looking at Ryan with soft eyes.

“Hello,” Ryan said. He looked back to the ground where Chris was knelt.

“Hello,” Shane dragged Ryan into his room and slammed the door closed, “You’re always welcome in my room, dear Ryan.”

“Okay…” Ryan said, stepping over the rubble – much more than before – to settle in his chair by Shane’s desk, “Can I, uh… sit?”

“It’s your chair,” Shane said, rubbing his eyes with his palms. “Oh, Ryan. I’m very lost, these days.”

“I imagine being a king is incredibly taxing,” Ryan said, lowering quietly into His Chair, noticing that it had been embroidered since his last visit.

“I’m glad you agree,” Shane reached out and straightened a compartment in his dresser. “I’m burned out.”

“Well, please don’t murder anyone,” Ryan said, leaving the _including me_ out of it. “Do you have any… coping skills to calm you down?”

“Coping skill?” Shane asked, leaning against the wall, exhausted and damp from effort. “Explain?”

“Something you can do when you get worked up to calm yourself down,” Ryan said, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t have coping skills?”

“… I like to break plates and rummage through my drawers?” Shane said, gesturing to his mess, “It’s quite therapeutic.”

“You also injure people,” Ryan muttered quietly.

“I do,” Shane agreed with no hostility that Ryan had expected. “I should stop that, huh?”

“Immediately,” he said, his voice louder than before.

“Okay, Ryan,” Shane said, nodding, tugging gently at his hair. “I trust you.”

“That’s good.” There was a moment of confusion; Ryan wasn’t sure if this was how things went, that Shane would lull people into a false sense of security before killing them. He wasn’t going to test it. “I trust you too, Shane.”

“You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Ryan smiled gently, crossing his legs. “I’m glad.”

Shane stood silently for a while, back pressed against the wall, staring at Ryan with a confusing expression. Ryan kept eye contact but found it too overwhelming to continue for much longer than seconds at a time. He found him searching across Shane’s floor, counting how many fragments he could identify as the minutes ticked by.

“I think I’ll call Crow in to clean this place,” Shane decided.

“You could clean it yourself,” Ryan said, leaning down to pick up a shard of glass.

“Ryan!” Shane said, crossing the room in sharp strides, knocking the glass from his hands. “Be careful, you could hurt yourself.”

“Oh,” Ryan said, looking up at Shane. The concern was palatable. “Sorry.”

“You’re too precious,” Shane said solemnly. He wrapped an arm around Ryan’s back and lifted him to his feet, “You can’t be in here while it’s so dangerous.”

“I… I can…” Ryan trailed off as he saw Shane’s face again. “Okay.”

“I said I would protect you, and I meant it,” Shane said. He bent slightly and lifted Ryan up and over his shoulder. Ryan clutched to the fabric of Shane’s shirt, unsure if he should ask to be put down. Shane opened his door with a grunt, placing Ryan down on his feet on the tiles outside. “Wait here.”

“… Okay,” Ryan said. He paused, “Thank you.”

Shane looked at him with a small smile, “You’re welcome.”

Ryan sat, folding his legs into a basket, and sat on the floor, watching as Shane crawled onto his bed and called for Crow to clean his room. Ryan attempted to help many times, but Shane would wordlessly point at him to sit.

-

“Did you do something to him?” Chris would ask later, lugging dense bricks under his arms alongside Ryan, who carried much lighter materials (per Shane’s request), “Give him hallucinogens? Concussion?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Ryan said, shaking his head, “He’s just… nice to me, I guess.”

“He was having a breakdown, throwing plates and raising hell, and he sees your face… and just calms down.” He adjusted the bricks on his hip, “Not to mention, he lets you call him by his name,” they turned into a small alleyway, ducking under loose beams, “A few advisors ago, he hanged someone for that.”

“Was the someone his advisor?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that doesn’t make me feel great,” Ryan chuckled, pushing the gate open with his hip and holding it for Chris to enter in front of him. “But yeah. No, I guess I’m just lucky. Maybe he’s done murdering his advisors. Saw it going nowhere, or something.”

“I don’t think he can turn it on and off like a lever,” his voice was doubtful. He set the bricks down with a thud and clapped his hand on Ryan’s shoulder, “He’s done quite a few scary things. I don’t think he could change so quickly.”

“I like to be hopeful,” Ryan said, piling the hollow bricks near Chris’ pile. “People keep telling me he’ll murder me, but he kicked me out of his room for touching a piece of glass. Like _I’m_ made of glass.”

“He definitely cares for you,” the shorter man said. “He gets all soft around you.”

“I think he said he loved me, once,” Ryan said.

“It’s possible,” Chris paused for a moment before continuing to stack as he was assigned, “But I still recommend you tread carefully.”

“I will,” Ryan said. “I will.”

-

“Ryan, I would like to give you this gift,” Shane said over the distinct sound of a baby crying, his hands held behind his back.

Ryan just stared at him, “Shane, where did you get the baby?”

“I got her… from the… baby market,” Shane said, gently maneuvering the baby to his front, careful to support her head, “Don’t worry about it. Her name is Mallory, and we have to take care of her together.”

“Shane.”

“It’s a very big commitment, so we’re going to have to spend a lot of time together.”

“Shane.”

“And, when I’m dead and gone, she will be the ruler of – “

“Shane, you need to take her back to her mother,” Ryan said, now much closer, brushing his fingers over her soft head. “You can’t just steal babies to give as gifts.”

“But you’re my best friend.”

“Thank you, Shane, but I think you can appreciate me in any other way other than bestowing upon me the responsibility of another human life.”

“Right,” Shane said, looking down at her. He sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, big guy,” Ryan placed his hand on Shane’s shoulder. “I appreciate the effort.”

“Thank you, Ryan.”

-

“The gift didn’t work,” Shane said, bursting into Crow’s quarters as he tied his robe. “You said the gift would work.”

“I said you could give him the gift. I didn’t say it would _work_ in your ridiculous quest to woo him,” Crow looked up from his book, “I hope you don’t take this in the wrong way, Your Highness. I just fear for your commitment to this boy.”

“He’s not a _boy_ , that’s an odd way to refer to him,” Shane clasped his hands in front of him, “ _Please_ let me court him. Please, please. I love him.”

“You’ve not known him but for a week.”

“A week is enough,” Shane grunted, “I knew I loved him as soon as I saw him.”

“That isn’t how love works, Your Highness.”

“It is,” Shane practically hissed, pointing his finger at Crow, “You are very valuable to me, Crow, but if you keep me away from happiness, I will take strict action.”

“I’m keeping you away from heartbreak, sire.”

Shane pressed his fingertips to his temple. “My heart is robust enough.”

“The boy – or, _Ryan –_ will not love you, no matter how many gifts you give him,” Crow frowned, “I want you to understand this before you go any further.”

Shane seemed to think about that, “He won’t?”

“No, Your Highness.” Crow moved to stand, “He fears you. He’s seen you murder, he’s seen you rampage. He sees you as a blood-soaked leader, not a love interest.”

“I’d never hurt dear Ryan.”

“You can’t be sure,” Crow offered. “He definitely can’t.

Shane hummed, his chest constricting, “I suppose… I could be unlovable.”

“It’s likely,” Crow agreed, standing before the king.

“Well,” Shane said, “Thank you for opening my eyes, Crow. You’ve always been my most trusted servant.”

“You’re quite welcome, sire.”

Shane nodded his head and left Crow’s room, closing the door behind him.

In the morning, Crow was carried to the dungeon by Shane’s guards to be held without food until he retracted his words. Though, he wasn’t notified of this part of his sentence.

-

“Good morning,” Ryan said as he entered the dining room to find Shane at the head of the table, his hands wrapped around a warm metal cup. Shane looked up and smiled tiredly. “How did you sleep, Shane?”

“I must say,” Shane said, standing to pull out the chair next to him for Ryan, “I was sleepless, last night.”

“Oh?” Ryan frowned and sat down, watching Shane shuffle back to his seat. “Why was that?”

“I had to put Crow in the dungeon,” Shane said, shaking his head. “And I must say, I feel quite guilty about it.”

“I’m sorry, Shane,” Ryan said. His hand moved to rest on Shane’s forearm. A gesture of comfort, clearly, but it shot sparks up his arm. “I trust that it was with good reason.”

“I’m unsure,” Shane rested his chin in his palm, his hair flat on his forehead. “He said I was unlovable and that the person I love finds me to be a monster.”

“That’s pretty rude,” Ryan could see Crow’s point, but simply pointed to Shane’s cup, “Can I have some of that?”

“Of course, dear Ryan,” Shane pushed it towards him, “It’s Vietnamese coffee.”

“That’s… expensive,” Ryan said, taking a tentative sip. He raised his eyebrows, “And amazing.”

“Right?” Shane smiled.

“You’re not unlovable, though,” Ryan continued the conversation, though he could have clearly moved on. “Don’t think that you are.”

“I’m not?” Shane asked, accepting the cup back into his hands as Ryan handed it over.

“Of course you aren’t,” Ryan laughed, “You’re a very nice person. At least, to me.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Shane pressed his hand to his heart in relief and gratitude. “Your input means the world to me.”

Ryan had a pang of warmth in his chest but blamed it on the coffee. He retracted his hand from Shane’s arm and Shane nodded.

“It’s very nice to have you around,” Shane said, standing. “I’m going to walk in the garden. Will you join me?”

“Yeah,” Ryan smiled and stood. “Sounds fun.”

-

“Your room’s clean!” Ryan exclaimed, later in the day, following Shane into his room to assist him more in his piles of work. 

“It is!” Shane said excitedly, spinning a few times with his arms outstretched. “It took awhile and a few servants, but you know? It looks better this way.”

“It does.” Ryan walked to his assigned spot. He went to take a stack of paper to read, but he stopped short. “Shane, what are these?”

“These, what?” Shane stood over Ryan’s shoulder to see. “Oh, those are my glasses.”

“You have glasses?” Ryan turned in his chair, surprised. “Why don’t you wear them?”

“They’re not very kingly,” Shane said with a grimace, picking them up with his forefinger and thumb, “I look quite ridiculous in them.”

“You need your glasses to see efficiently, Shane, it doesn’t matter how you look in them,” Ryan stood, and took the glasses from him. He unfolded them, “May I?”

“I suppose,” Shane grumbled, bending down and closing his eyes for Ryan to reach. “You’re not allowed to laugh.”

“I would never laugh,” Ryan said, sliding them over Shane’s ears and stepping back. “Oh.”

“Oh, what?” Shane asked.

One thing Ryan hadn’t noticed before this moment: Shane’s looks.

“You look great,” Ryan breathed, stepping back.

“I do?” Shane raised an eyebrow, “Is this a joke?”

“No, Shane, you look very handsome.”

“Why, thank you, dear Ryan,” Shane smiled. “You look better when I wear these, too.”

Ryan laughed, “Thank you, Shane.”

“Do you have glasses?” Shane asked, and Ryan was immediately made aware of how close they were.

“Yeah,” Ryan said.

“You don’t wear them.”

“Not very… advisor-ly.”

“I disagree,” Shane said, standing up straight with a twinkle in his eyes. “Go get them at once.”

Ryan stiffened his shoulders, “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Oh, don’t do that,” Shane said, pushing him toward the door. “Come back as soon as possible so we can get back to work.”

“Okay, Shane.”

“Much better.”

-

Ryan was sat in the dining quarters again during Shane’s first nap of the day, poking around his plate with his fork. Over the days in the palace, he’d grown fond of Shane’s presence and found himself lost without the king. Chris was only one person of the population, and he was much busier than Ryan. There were blocks of the day when he would be alone.

Except for today.

“Hello?” A small voice said from behind him.

“Hello,” Ryan turned to see a young woman with her hands behind her back. “Is Shane okay?”

“Yes, yes, he’s safe,” she said with an odd smile, “Sir Crow would like to speak with you. Are you free?”

“Of course,” he said, standing. “Sir Crow… like, in-the-dungeon Crow?”

“Yes sir.”

“My name is Ryan,” he said, standing and extending his hand to shake. She just stared at it and he retracted, “Sorry. Show the way, please.”

The dungeon was three floors under the dining hall, two floors of which were completely underground. With each stairwell they weaved through, the corridor’s got darker and the air grew colder. Ryan shivered, wrapping his arms around himself as they descended.

“Ah, sir Ryan,” came the old voice from the other side of the wooden door. Ryan looked to the woman, who gave him a bow, before walking up the stairs.

“Hello, Crow?” Ryan stepped closer to the door, “You wanted to talk to me?”

“I need to tell you something,” Crow said, his voice muffled. “It’s very important that you hear.”

“You said he’s unlovable,” Ryan said quietly. He reached up and unlatched the small window so that he could see the man behind the door. He sighed at the sight of a clearly starved, tired old man. “You can’t say that.”

“Please listen,” Crow said, resting his forehead against the bars.

“Okay,” Ryan said, sitting against the wall across from the door. “I’ll listen.”

-

_Shane was 14 years old when his father died, leaving him in power over thousands of people coming out of the strongest famine in decades. He was given no time to grieve, instead immediately brought to sit on the throne and decide how to address thousands of hungry subjects and tell them that all was well._

_He had inherited many qualities from his mother. He was fascinated with literature, he was incredibly empathetic – however, he inherited his father’s epilepsy, temper, and mood swings, making him a nightmare of a royal, even in his early days._

_For his first six years of rule, he was guided by advisors and his living relatives on how to rule. His decisions were overseen and often edited by those around him, often without his knowledge and even more often to punish the serfdom for poverty that was out of their control._

_By his twentieth birthday, however, he had caught onto this. He called a meeting in the dining hall, filling the room with his staffers and servants, climbing onto a table and announcing that he was ready to rule on his own._

_"I'm ready to rule on my own!" Shane brought his hands out to his sides, rocking forward. "Father was to be independent when he was my age. I'm twenty, I can do this."_

_The crowd of staffers and servants were quick to agree. A resounding agreement, "Yes, yes, he's ready! Look how composed and ready he is! Our king!"_

_"No," came one voice. Shane's father's general, who pushed his way in front of the young king. He placed a hand over his chest, gave a small bow, and continued: "You're not ready. You haven't completed your military training."_

_Shane was angry, of course he was, but he remained calm. His face was red, sure, and his fists were clenched, but he didn't yell, which the staff found to be an improvement._

_"Ah, general," Shane said with a gentle smile, "I'd love to discuss that with you, sometime. In my private quarters."_

_"Of course, your Highness."_

_Moments after the meeting, Shane found out that his generals had gotten into the private supply of opium and alcohol, pillaged the villages surrounding the palace, and murdered many of his father’s harem._

_This was unacceptable. Shane believed there was nothing more cowardly and dishonorable than the massacre of innocent people._

_Shane first freed the surviving harem, sending them to their families overseas. He kissed them each on the cheek and gave them each a considerable amount of gold, sending his regards to them and their families and pleading with them to not see his kingdom as such a terrible place._

_Then, he called upon his father’s general._

_“Your Highness?” The man peered into Shane’s room, raising an eyebrow at the disarray, “Are you alright?”_

_“I’m living,” Shane said, turning from his place at the balcony, watching the small dots of ships sail toward the horizon, over the layers of buildings surrounding the palace, “Would you mind stepping in and closing the door?”_

_“Of course not.”_

_As soon as the door was latched, Shane exploded. He punched the general in the face, grabbed him by the nape of his neck and the seat of his pants, and threw him from the highest parapet in the palace, his balcony, onto the stone courtyard below._

_Unfortunately, the general didn’t die. So, Shane walked down the stairs upon stairs down to the courtyard, grabbed him by the ankles, dragged him up the stairs (making sure his head hit every step) and tossed him over the balcony again._

_His staff crowded around him as he stepped into the courtyard for a second time, wiping sweat from his brow._

_"If anyone else challenges my rule,” Shane said, out of breath, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He pointed to the general, practically pulp on the stone below, “This is your fate.”_

_-_

“Every advisor, since that day,” Crow said solemnly, “Every one of them has disagreed with him once, and he’s killed them.”

Ryan shook his head, “Do you think he’ll kill me?”

“I can’t be sure,” Crow closed his eyes, “I can’t get the image of him, that day, out of my mind. I was tasked to clean the body from the courtyard and to be his first advisor.”

“He didn’t kill you?” Ryan asked, blinking.

“He’s certainly tried, but I know him.”

“Enough to manipulate him, then.”

“If need be.”

“Well,” Ryan said, pushing himself up. “I need to check on Shane, make sure he’s okay.”

“Tread carefully,” Crow called after him, grasping at the bars. “You’ll be next!”

“Okay, Crow,” Ryan said, shaking his head and walking up the steps. “Just hang tight.”

Ryan ascended the stairs, grasping the rails. Shane’s past had been intricately placed in front of Ryan, and he was unsure what to do with it.

So he entered Shane’s room, crawled in his bed, and wrapped his arms around the tall man.

“Dear Ryan?” Shane asked groggily, hugging back with full force.

“You’re very brave,” Ryan said.

“Oh?” Shane said, his hands rubbing up and down Ryan’s back. “Thank you. You’re quite brave as well, Ryan.”

“Thanks, Shane,” Ryan sighed, closing his eyes. “You were right, this bed is really comfortable.”

“You can sleep, if you’d like.”

“I do,” Ryan sighed, exhausted, pressing his cheek further against Shane’s chest. “Crow told me about your generals.”

“… I see,” Shane said, growing stiff.

Ryan shook his head as best he could, “Those guys were jerks.”

Shane chuckled, relaxing almost immediately. “I know, right? Absolute jerks.”

-

Chris looked at Ryan, foot halting on the pedal. “So…?”

“So, what?” Ryan asked, standing beside Chris and taking the poker in his hands.

“You slept in the king’s room _with_ the king,” Chris waggled his eyebrows.

“I did,” Ryan said, stretching. “Slept.”

“And he didn’t hang you.” Chris rolled his eyes, “He’s definitely soft for you. I can’t put my finger on _why,_ but I’m relieved.”

“Me too,” Ryan said, his cheeks red, nudging Chris out of the way with his hip so he could take over. “Take a load off, friend.”

“I will,” the shorter man practically dove into the nearest chair.

-

“Ryan,” Shane called, holding his arms to the sides. Ryan stood from the side of the desk, pushing his glasses up from his nose and rushing over to embrace the king. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Shane.” Ryan said, extracting his limbs. “Are you stressed?”

“A bit,” Shane said with an exhausted grin. “I really like the idea of a flat tax.”

“I think that would be a hit with everyone out there,” he pointed out the window.

“Me too,” Shane said, nodding, and writing something down. “Okay.”

“Done?”

“Done,” Shane stood up and stretched his arms over his head. “Are you coming?”

“Yep,” Ryan said, running and diving on the bed. Shane followed right after him.

“Hey,” Shane jumped on top of him, pinning him down, “I’m the king, I dive first.”

“You’re getting old,” Ryan said, looking between his eyes. “Getting slow.”

“Slow? Psh.” Shane shook his head, moving to let Ryan escape. Ryan followed him, rolling on top of Shane. “This is _definitely_ not allowed.”

“You’re the king,” Ryan said with a shrug. “Don’t like it, put me away.”

“I could never put you away, Ryan,” Shane said fondly.

“One day,” Ryan said, shaking his head. “One day.”

Shane sighed as Ryan fell on the bed beside him, “You’re my best friend.”

“You’re _my_ best friend,” Ryan laughed.

A beat of silence.

“You know?” Shane said.

“You’re not unlovable,” Ryan said at the same time.

Shane looked at him, surprised, “That must have been a year ago.”

“It was,” Ryan said with a sigh, “But I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Oh,” Shane said with a frown, “I’m sorry, Ryan, is there any way I can remedy that?”

Ryan thought for a moment before turning on his side, “Accept my love, I guess.”

Shane paused, rolling to face him, “I’d ask nothing less.”

Ryan nodded with a smile. He beamed wider as Shane pulled him into his arms. “Thank you for not killing me.”

“I could never,” Shane whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.


End file.
